


Exquirentibus Veritatum

by IxBirch



Series: In Regeneratione [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, Profanity (lots of it), Reincarnation, Shameless Smut, Swearing, eventually, no really 'fuck' makes up half of my vocabulary irl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29406912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IxBirch/pseuds/IxBirch
Summary: You find yourself in the spotlight after an innocent moment was used in a political game. You're mad at the man who this was meant to hurt as he seems unphased while you're getting the brunt of the attention. What you didn't expect was to say yes when ADA Erwin Smith asked you out.❦I am hopelessly in love with a memory. An echofrom another time, another place.Michael Faudet, "Echo"
Relationships: Erwin Smith/Reader
Series: In Regeneratione [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139396
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Reincarnation-AU for my fic Veritas Omnia Vincit. I may reference my previous fic, but if I do, it will be limited and will stand on its own just fine.
> 
> *I do not own Attack on Titan | Shingeki no Kyojin or any of the characters save for my own. Thank you.

❦

“Hey, have you seen the papers?” Petra asks as she comes in for her shift.

You acknowledge the small redhead with a glance as you continue to wipe down the counter. “No, I like to enjoy my morning before ruining it with the world’s fuckery.”

She chuckles before tossing a paper your way. Your eyes flicker to the daily and you do a double-take.

“I’m sorry—is that _me_?!”

“Yup. Remember that man who came in earlier this week?”

It’s kind of hard not to, considering how ~~_fucking_~~ beautiful he was and how close he stood next to you as you explained what was in each pastry and how _**he’s fucking in the picture with you**_.

“Apparently he’s running to be the new DA since his boss stepped down last week.”

“Okay?! But what does that have to do with me?” you ask frantically, eyes glossing over the words, unable to comprehend why the fuck _you_ are on the front page.

“When he came in he was followed and they think you’re his mistress or something. It’s probably a political scheme, though I’m not certain why you’d be involved.”

“Wonderful. Wonderful! Well that explains the calls that won’t stop coming in for comment,” you sigh, pressing your fingers to your forehead. Petra steps into the back and you fling the offending paper into the trash, tempted to just light the damn thing on fire. She comes back out, tying the back of her apron before starting.

“Take over, will you? We aren’t answering the phone for the foreseeable future. I’m going to record a new message and we’ll be handling all communications via e-mail. Shit. I’ll go ahead and reach out to all the clients waiting on orders, just in case.”

“Got it, boss!”

❦  


You emerge from the office, feeling considerably more drained than before. A few clients had dropped you and your inbox was largely people reaching out for comment, to yell at you, or to ask you about “that good ADA dick.”

Petra looks better, though it’s clear it hasn’t been much better out here.

“How bad’s it?” you ask her. 

She sighs and shrugs. “I had to shoo away a couple paparazzi and they complained that I was being unfair.”

“Of course they did. Why don’t you take your break now? I got this,” you say through a yawn. She nods and you watch the register while she heads into the back room.

It’s slow going—some regulars pop in and ask for a croissant or feuillete or fruit tarts, but the conversation is stilted. Regardless, you try to offer your best customer service smile before sending them on their way. Honestly, your bakery hasn’t been this empty since you had first opened. You wonder whether you should call Jean and just tell him to stay home when the bell above the door dings.

You look up and it’s him. Mr. ADA. Mr. Ruiner-of-Your-Life.

“YOU,” you seethe, despite the prickling at the back of your knees at his attention.

He looks surprised for a moment before his eyes soften and a jovial smile settles on his face. “Good morning,” he greets. “I wanted to introduce myself. I’m—”

“Ohoho, I know who you are, Mr. ADA!”

His smile turns almost boyish and you curse the twittering in your chest at the sight. “I see you’ve seen the papers. I apologize for that. My name is Erwin Smith. I was hoping I could speak with you?” 

You sigh through your nose as you cross your arms. Petra comes back out and pauses at the sight of him. Dammit. You were hoping she’d stay back there longer so you could tell him to leave, but now that she’s here you’ll just humor him and get this out of the way.

“Fine. Petra, I’ll be in the back talking to Mr. Smith.”

She nods and you pat her shoulder as you two exchange places. You glance over your shoulder to see Erwin heading over with a cordial smile. Leading him into your office, he takes the seat in front of your desk. You take your spot and lean back. “Speak.”

“For someone who makes such warm and sweet treats, you’re unusually cold,” he muses.

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s not like I found myself on the front page of the daily this morning, or that I lost several business dealings because of it, or that I’ve been harassed by paparazzi or anything. I’m sorry that I can’t be warmer for you,” you reply dryly.

A light sprinkling of pink (hopefully in admonishment) appears on his cheek, but his smile remains. “Again, I apologize for that. I had no idea that I was being followed, and it was not my intention for any of that to happen. I would like to make it up to you, though.”

You raise your eyebrow but give him nothing else in response. ~~It’s not like it’s gratifying to see this incredibly handsome and powerful man apologizing to you like this~~. 

“That was the work of my opponent, Nile Dok, who has been attempting to paint me as a philanderer. If you notice the tabloids from earlier this week, they have similar pictures of me with other women. I’ve corrected the rumors before, but the paparazzi only care about what sells. Apparently, your bakery is quite successful and you’ve earned yourself a reputation of a responsible businesswoman who has a detailed history of advocacy for this community, which is why the daily felt the need to run the story.”

“There is _no_ story.”

He dips his head for a moment before looking back up at you with an almost muted intensity in the back of his eyes. His tongue darts out momentarily to lick his lips and you have to stifle the tingling of your cheeks. You will not allow this man to see how he affects you. ~~This pull to him is really annoying.~~

“While I am _not_ what my opponent would like to paint me as, I _would_ be interested in taking you out on a date.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth drops in shock, mind going blank. “Excuse me?”

“I would like to take you out on a date. If it doesn’t work out, I will happily correct the media and have them issue a retraction. Regardless, I would be interested in hiring your bakery to cater for an event my office has coming up. All proceeds are going to the Trost Central Kitchen, which—”

“I know what TCK is. I work with them each quarter,” you interrupt. You mull it over, scrutinizing the man before you.

Being able to participate in an event like that would certainly increase visibility to both your shop and increase what you’re able to do to give back to the community, in addition to what would be going to TCK from the event itself. You always helped either prepare meals or deliver them every three months to families and individuals in need, and this way you’d be able to give them a financial boost, too. 

And then there’s the idea of this date. A part of you ~~and we won’t talk about how large of a part that is~~ wants to take him up on it. His eyes are a deep, Olympic blue that you could drown in ~~and probably are right now in this moment~~. His face is wonderfully proportioned and his lips are something you want to feel on your skin… And there’s something that’s drawing you to him, that makes you want to give in, like something you’ve missed out on before and that your body is unwilling to do so again.

Before you can think of the cons—and boy, oh, boy are there a lot of them—you answer on impulse. “Okay. You can pick me up at seven on Saturday.”

His answering smile is devastating and you’re certain that if you were standing, your legs would have given out. 

You pull out a sticky note and write your address and phone number down. Taking the piece of paper between your fingers, you extend your arm to hand it to him. He reaches forward and you retract your arm. “If the date leads nowhere, I want the retraction within forty-eight hours. If not, I want no more pictures in the media of you with other women with romantic implications. Understand?”

A wicked glint appears in his eyes, like you are prey that he can’t wait to chase, and his smile deepens. “Yes, ma’am,” he answers, voice a little deeper.

You hold your tongue between your teeth through parted lips and you delight in the way his eyes watch the movement. 

“Good. I am going to ask you to leave through the back. Can’t have the paparazzi catching you here until after Saturday.” 

He nods, reaching for the note again. You hand it over and when your fingers brush, it’s like a fire ignites you both. One glance from your hands to his eyes reveals the excitement he feels. He pulls away, note in hand, and watches as you stand to usher him out through the back.

You open the back door for him and he leans in, making you acutely aware of how he dwarfs you. “I’ll be by on Saturday. Wear something nice,” he whispers in your ear, grinning at the involuntary shiver that runs through you.

Watching as he retreats, you mentally kick yourself. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?


	2. Erwin Pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ All I know I got to be _   
>  _ With you, no reason not to be _   
>  _ Next to you, you next to me _   
>  _ Holding you and you're holding me _   
>  _ Time again onto the _   
>  _ The way you look at me _   
>  _ I could be away from here _   
>  _ With no one just you _   
> 
> 
> Tirzah, "[Gladly](https://open.spotify.com/track/145xZcFMv1ccyKBgEMtV3y?si=dlhquxNmSh-5q_LebI8ifw)" 

* * *

#### Erwin Smith

District Attorney Keith Shadis had announced his plans to step down after a particularly stressful campaign against police corruption. There was definitive action that needed to be taken against the police department, but after receiving countless death threats from what could only be officers and their supporters, Shadis decided it was time to get out.

And while Erwin would undoubtedly be picking up the slack and acting as interim-DA, that demanded a proper election. Nile Dok stepped up, promising that he would give back to the community, ensure that the police department was able to continue their “good work”. Despite the fact that the “good work” consisted of taking bribes, unjustly arresting innocent people, unequal distribution of enforcement of the law, and missing evidence in the form of drugs, technology, and anything slightly incriminating against them.

With how politicized this entire thing is, Erwin’s having a tough time finding support from anyone outside of his subordinates—at least, official support. The mayor and the councilmen issued explicit statements of neutrality, and the governor has done the same. The police department, unsurprisingly, is putting all of their resources into Dok’s campaign to get him elected.

That’s another thing that bothers him about all this—Nile Dok. They used to be incredibly close during law school, and then Marie happened. They both fell for her, and she had returned her affections until Erwin made it known that he wanted to change the role of the District Attorney’s office, create a better system of accountability . She scoffed at the pay rate and turned to Nile, who was interested in corporate law, at least, until recently. She had taken over as editor at her father’s paper recently and had unfortunately used her clout to try to tarnish Erwin’s campaign. 

He couldn’t tell if it was Marie or Nile who decided to target him as a philanderer, as a playboy who was against family values and community safety, but regardless, it was working. Unfortunately at the detriment of these poor women. Levi had scolded him, saying he was an irrevocable flirt that caused more harm than good at this point. Erwin couldn’t deny that. He didn’t mean for the waitress to be caught by a cameraman, nor the florist who helps deliver flowers to his father’s grave. There were countless photos taken during the last gala he was forced to attend. Each time, he came out and explicitly told the press that it wasn’t a relationship, that it was professional, that it would be tantamount to slander on behalf of these women and he would help provide the resources necessary for them to sue the press.

It worked. Until it didn’t.

A newspaper was thrown across his desk as Levi came in.

“God dammit, Eyebrows. I thought I told you to knock it off.”

Erwin chuckles at Levi’s words, unfolding the paper to reveal an image of him standing close to you in your bakery. Shit. His hand covers his mouth as he reads the article, detailing who you are and why it apparently matters.

You’re a baker, who had taken over the shop after your mother passed. You’ve been an active participant in the community—you helped prepare the meals that the Trost Central Kitchen would deliver to families in need, you helped established community gardens, spearheaded a project to plant bee-friendly vegetation. The first Tuesday of each month, you and your employees would have a pop-up event where all proceeds would go to supporting programs for underprivileged children. And now you were someone who shamelessly entertained Erwin Smith, the Assistant District Attorney with hopes of the top office who had no morals, family values, or concerns for the general safety of the public. 

Shit.

He looks up and Levi’s already gone. Hange had mentioned your bakery for an event they had coming up, and Erwin, wanting to support the community ~~and not at all because it would be beneficial to be seen supporting the community~~ decided that local businesses should cater. He told Hange that he would personally visit your bakery to try the foods.

What he didn’t expect was you. He walked in and his eyes immediately found yours, gentle, overwhelmingly kind, and intimately familiar. It was like he had known you at some point, had lost the chance to know more of you, but not in this lifetime. It was indescribably surreal, and before he knew it, his feet carried him forward to you. 

He had to _know_ you. He asked if he could see a menu, if you could take the time to describe the ingredients of each item. You smiled and looked at the time before telling him it was early enough that you could do that, no problem. You grabbed a leather menu book and circled around the counter, making yourself available. He approached you, wanting to give you plenty of distance, trying to keep Levi’s warnings in mind, but then your scent hit him. 

Vanilla, lavender, and just a hint of lemon.

And it was like electricity was suddenly coursing through his body. He leaned closer, his mind furiously trying to figure out how he _knew_ you and how he didn’t at the same time. You were speaking, but he heard not a single word. Feeling ashamed of that wasted effort on your behalf, he purchased a cake from you, perhaps a strawberry mousse?

He left your shop without asking you about catering the event.

* * *

#### Milk & Honey Bakery - Erwin Smith

Erwin enters your shop, warm aroma of subtle vanilla, a little yeast, and airy hints of fresh fruits luring him inside. There you are, behind the counter again with an indignant expression.

_“YOU.”_

“Good morning,” he tries to appeal to the kind woman who had greeted him so warmly just the other day. “I wanted to introduce myself. I’m—”

_“Ohoho, I know who you are, Mr. ADA!”_

Shit. You’re not making this easy, not with your justified anger and his inability to see it as anything but adorable. Even now, he thinks to himself that he could get used to you being upset with him like this if he could have you in his life. “I see you’ve seen the papers. I apologize for that. My name is Erwin Smith. I was hoping I could speak with you?”

You cross your arms as your employee comes out from the back. She looks vaguely familiar and he realizes that it’s because he’s seen a picture of her and Levi together when Levi had opened his phone. Well, that explains how Hange had known about this bakery. You assess the petite woman and sigh.

_“Fine. Petra, I’ll be in the back talking to Mr. Smith.”_

Erwin gladly follows you into the cozy room and takes the seat directly in front of the desk. His eyes follow you, enjoying the sway of your hips as you make your way to your chair. 

_“Speak.”_

It’s not until that moment, until he hears you command him so effortlessly that he decides he needs you in his life, in _this_ life.

“For someone who makes such warm and sweet treats, you’re unusually cold,” he teases gently, trying to elicit a reaction, any reaction really, from you. 

Your eyes narrow before you respond. _“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s not like I found myself on the front page of the daily this morning, or that I lost several business dealings because of it,”_ Shit. _“or that I’ve been harassed by paparazzi or anything. I’m sorry I can’t be warmer for you.”_

The fire behind your eyes, lacing itself in your words is addicting, but he has the grace to feel ashamed for the problems he’s caused you. Even still, he cannot stop the smile from returning. “Again, I apologize for that. I had no idea that I was being followed, and it was not my intention for any of that to happen. I would like to make it up to you, though.”

You give him a challenging look and it sparks something deep inside him, some sort of deep longing that seems to be existentially greater than the simple exhilaration of being in your presence. 

“That was the work of my opponent, Nile Dok, who has been attempting to paint me as a philanderer. If you notice the tabloids from earlier this week, they have similar pictures of me with other women. I’ve corrected the rumors before, but the paparazzi only care about what sells. Apparently, your bakery is quite successful and you’ve earned yourself a reputation of a responsible businesswoman who has a detailed history of advocacy for this community, which is why the daily felt the need to run the story.”

_“There is **no** story.”_

Disappointment twists inside his stomach, but he doesn’t give it credence, room to live or grow. No. Your fight, your actuality before him is a reality he needs to experience again and again. “While I am _not_ what my opponent would like to paint me as, I _would_ be interested in taking you out on a date.”

Surprise washes over you and you ask for him to repeat himself, more out of shock than not hearing him.

“I would like to take you out on a date. If it doesn’t work out, I will happily correct the media and have them issue a retraction. Regardless, I would be interested in hiring your bakery to cater for an event my office has coming up. All proceeds are going to the Trost Central Kitchen, which—”

_“I know what the TCK is. I work with them each quarter.”_

He watches as you weigh the question he’s laid before you, both of them. Your eyes shift to him, taking his features in and he knows before you say it. 

_“Okay. You can pick me up at seven on Saturday.”_

Erwin smiles and it looks like you’re temporarily dazed before you pull out a note, write down your information. You peel it off of the stack of notes and go to pass it to him. As he reaches for it, you pull it back, intentionally having made him come to you, lean in to you.

_“If the date leads nowhere, I want the retraction within forty-eight hours. If not, I want no more pictures in the media of you with other women with romantic implications. Understand?”_

Yes, _yes_. That means that you feel it, too, that you know what going down this road can lead to, that you want it, want him. He has no intention of letting you escape from him, of continuing this feeling of having missed out on you before. He offers an affirmation and you smile, tantalizing and vexing.

As his fingers brush against yours, he feels that shock of electricity again. What—is this? 

You lead him out the back way and before he departs, he leans in, catching a whiff of vanilla and lavender. “I’ll be by on Saturday. Wear something nice.” You shiver and his heart stutters in his chest.

* * *

#### Saturday - Erwin Smith

His body is alight with excitement as he drives to your residence. It’s not too far from your bakery—in fact, he’d be surprised if you even had your own motor vehicle. He’s ten minutes early, but better than late. He parks his car on the street in front of your quaint house. Judging from the way you’ve repurposed the driveway, he surmises his hypothesis was correct.

Three raps on the door and you open it. His chest feels tight in his throat as he drinks you in—you’re wearing a wonderful black dress that hugs you in all the right places and heels that help lessen the height difference. Your makeup is subtle, but highlights the natural contours of your face. And the way you’re looking at him? He’s certain that you’d eat him if given the chance, and he definitely plans to give you the chance.

“Shall we?” 

Your answering smile is coquettish and you slip your hand in the crook of his offered arm. _“Let’s.”_

❦

The conversation is pleasant, focusing on childhood experiences. You’ve both spent your lives in this city, though with vastly different experiences. While he had the privilege of a father teaching at one of the most prestigious private schools in the country, you had to fight for nearly everything in your life. The community had banded together to help keep your mom’s bakery afloat, guaranteeing you had the chance to go to a culinary school. When you came back, the community was struggling and from that point forward, you dedicated yourself to repaying their kindness. 

He pulled up into temporary parking in front of the restaurant and told you to stay in the car. He came out a couple minutes later with a box. He placed it in his back seat before getting back into the driver’s seat.

_“What was that?”_

“I thought I would do you the favor of keeping this date a secret until we know whether this is going anywhere,” he gives you a sly grin before reversing from the space and taking you somewhere entirely different.

 _“Well, I appreciate the discretion,”_ you hum, something bubbling beneath the surface, something he wants to pull forward.

He drives towards the water, towards his destination. “You aren’t worried about where I’m taking you?”

 _“No. I won’t say that I trust you just yet, but I will say that my phone’s GPS is connected to my friend’s phone.”_ He hears the smile in your voice and he’s glad you’re taking precautions.

“Good,” he says, wanting to be clear that throughout all of this, throughout his quest to make you his, you feel safe. 

He can feel your smile as the conversation drifts to hobbies and what either of you do in your free time. He likes this—the easy flow, the natural pace. He pulls into the parking garage and you help him carry the food towards the large building up ahead.

_“Don’t tell me you’re taking me to the **aquarium**?”_

“And if I did?” You don’t reply but he can feel the elation roll off you. “I know the executives and the board. They’re opening up their evenings starting next week for quiet tours and wine tastings to help bring in donations. They allowed me to make a donation for tonight,” he explains.

 _“Good. I like the work they do for the environment and education. I don’t get to come here as often as I would like,”_ you sigh as you approach the door.

“Good evening, Erwin,” greets the VP of Exhibitions. “You never bring anyone here, she must be something special.”

He feels your gaze on him as he replies, “That’s what I’m hoping, anyway.” She unlocks the doors and lets you two in. “Are you all in the cafe?”

At her nod, he leads you to the cafe, just straight and to the right. You marvel at the life-sized models of whales hanging above your heads. The volunteers and the VP of Ocean Initiatives greet him as he sets the box on an empty table.

“As a thank you, I bring gifts.” He starts distributing the boxed food to everyone and pulls out two bottles of wine for them. “And for you, I must ask you to grab the last bottle of wine and follow me.” 

You comply, bottle of Alice Prosecco in your hand. He leads you down the long corridor, down the stairs and past the first two exhibits you’ve come across. 

_“Jellyfish?”_ you ask, reading the sign.

“Come on,” he gently urges, leading you deeper inside. You slow to marvel at the different displays, jellyfish aimlessly swaying. 

The volunteers had set up a table in front of their main sea nettles display for the two of you. He opened the box, revealing a warm, Neapolitan margherita pizza. They had been kind enough to set up two glasses, allowing Erwin to pour the wine. 

He finishes just in time for you to enter. He smirks at the barely audible gasp that leaves your lips. 

_“Wow. You really go all out, don’t you?”_ you ask, eyes settling on him. _“Is this how the newspapers are able to sell the image of you as a playboy so well?”_ You approach the table and he pulls out the chair for you.

“Hm? No. You’re something special and deserved to be treated,” he whispers in your ear as he pushes your seat in. Again, he delights in the shiver that he’s able to pull from you.

 _“I see.”_ You fix him with an unreadable expression that does nothing good for his palpitations. _“Erwin?”_

The way his name falls from your lips tangles in his nerves, in his very existence and he wants to hear it again and again. 

_“Why **are** you so intent on me?”_

“Because when I look at you, it is like I’m looking in the face of the truth I’ve been searching for my entire life.”

You look away with a surprisingly shy smile forming on your lips, and by the way you’re biting your bottom lip, he can only assume that it’s one you’re unsuccessful in hiding. Good. He doesn’t want you to hide from him.

The two of you dine in silence for a minute, savoring the smoky flavor of the wood-burned pizza and the complementary earthy tones of the wine. 

_“You chose really well with this restaurant. Will they be catering at the fundraiser, too?”_

He wipes the corners of his mouth with a napkin before responding. “Yes. They’ve agreed to provide some of the entrees.”

_“Okay. I’ll make sure to bake desserts that will complement this Neapolitan style. I’m assuming you’ll be hiring at least two more companies? One for appetizers and another entree option and another dessert?”_

“I’m not too certain. Gunther Schultz is the head of our community outreach and is supposed to be handling the details. I just have the final say so.”

 _“Hm. So that first day you came into my bakery, you were there to try to hire me?”_ He gives his affirmation and you give him an astonished look. _“You could have said something! I would have let you sample my desserts—you didn’t have to buy the entire cake.”_

Erwin chuckles and you falter. “That’s what I had intended. My colleague had said the same thing when I returned with a cake.”

You click your tongue against your teeth and shake your head with a playful smile. _“So what changed?”_

He leans forward and holds your gaze. “You.” Your smile turns reluctant but there’s a glint, something soft, appreciative, receptive. He wants more. 

The food is gone, and you happily let Erwin pour the last of the wine into your glasses. Despite the jellyfish rhythmically moving behind the acrylic just meters from you, your gaze is stuck on him, drinking in his features. You mirror his easy smile before drinking the rest of your wine.

 _“Okay, hotshot. Let’s clean this up. I’m eager to see what else you’re going to pull out this evening.”_

You stand, fluid, graceful, and start to gather the remnants of your meal. He helps, stacking the dishes as you gather the trash. Making your way out of the exhibit, you recycle the empty bottle and throw away the empty box.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to recycle cardboard?”

You turn and look at him like he has three heads, an unbelieving smirk forming on your lips. _“ERWIN SMITH. Do not tell me that you’ve been tossing pizza boxes and other food stained containers in the recyclables bin this entire time!”_

He snickers at your reaction. “Okay, then I won’t.” He laughs harder when you smack his arm. “I promise you, I’ve just learned my lesson.”

_“You better have! Now let’s go return these to the kitchen.”_

This—he’s certain he could do this with you forever. He’s not even hesitant about that thought, that consideration because what he said earlier is the truth. Seeing you made something just _click_ for him, in his soul, in his existence. Like he’s been longing, searching for something, anything, his entire life and the answer was you.

You lead the way, the glasses in hand and he can’t stop watching the way your body moves, the way you carry yourself like you own the ground you walk on, the air you breathe. It’s too short a walk when the two of you enter the kitchen. There’s a volunteer cleaning up from their meal who happily takes the dishes from him. You gently place the glasses on the counter next to them before thanking them. 

Turning your attention back to Erwin, you almost spring forward, hand extended. He takes it and as your fingers intertwine with his, his heart stutters. 

_“Where to, hotshot?”_

“Wherever you want, though the area that we were just in is going to be shutting down soon to give the animals a chance to rest.”

You nod and gently tug his arm in that direction. As you two walk, you lean into him and he wonders whether it’s a conscious decision or the influence of the alcohol. Regardless, it’s absolutely intoxicating. You weave him through the first exhibit, hosting a variety of cephalopods. Some of them are nocturnal, so it’s a rare treat to see them meandering through the enclosures. 

He loves the way your eyes follow each of the animals, read each info-card, the little ‘o’ your mouth makes when you find something truly beautiful—which happens to be most things. He finds that he enjoys your reactions to your surroundings, experiencing each and every thing with acute fascination and zeal. 

A little gasp escapes you as you two find yourselves in a larger room with a massive tank. There are sardine schooling together, two old turtles hovering near the top, several sharks, tunas, and a large southern stingray, all swimming harmoniously with one another. You approach the acrylic and extend a hand, almost like you want to touch it.

“You like this?” he murmurs.

You turn to him, eyes wide and full of reverence he’s not entirely sure is meant for him, and nod.

“Come on. There’s something I think you should see, then.” He pulls you along and you go willingly, compliantly. Once exiting the room, he sees the decline he’s looking for and takes it. 

The enclosure is so large that it essentially extends over three storeys. The glass exposed here is curved with a slanted concrete ledge. He releases your hand a bit reluctantly when you pull away, but he’s immediately captivated by the way you turn yourself around and lean back on the ledge so you’re looking up into the enclosure. The smile that forms on your face draws him to you and he takes a similar pose.

The surface is barely visible as the sun starts its descent. The marine life oscillates before him and it’s like he’s experiencing this entire thing for the first time, despite coming here quite often. He feels the gentle caress of your hand on his, and he takes your hand again.

 _“This is comforting in a terrifying way,”_ you whisper like you’re sharing a deeply guarded secret with him. _“We’re so small in the grand scheme of things. So infinitesimal when faced with things as humbling as the ocean and all it holds dear, or the night sky with all the stars and planets and galaxies. It’s nice to remember that there are things much, much bigger than us, but that we’re still here, able to experience it at all. That for a moment, we can experience this moment in its entirety. Does that make sense?”_ He feels you shift to look at him, and he returns your gaze.

Your lips are parted and you’re looking at him with a singular intensity and it’s too much and not enough. His hand reaches forward to caress your cheek, and you lean into it.

“Can I kiss you?” 

_“Please,”_ you breathe.

He leans forward and his lips find yours, gentle, pliant. The kiss is sweet and unhurried while all of his senses are overwhelmed by the increasing presence of you, of lavender and vanilla and lemon. Your hand travels up his arm to pull him in by his neck. You worry his bottom lip with your teeth and he deepens the kiss. 

Yes. This is what he’s been searching for all these years.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave any comments or feedback if you enjoy this (or not)!


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